Despite the early hour, the small chapel was beginning to fill up with people —and the air that was starting to tense up wasn't welcoming or cheerful.

Groups of people stood huddled together in hushed conversations, their breath visible in the chilly air. In the front row, a woman sat alone, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs —it was aunt Elsie.

A few rows back, two men sat with their heads bowed, their faces etched with sorrow. As more people filed in, the chapel became crowded and stifling.

The air was heavy with the scents of flowers and grief. Soon, a lady clad in a black lengthy gown and a...